


Renting That 4 by 4

by Sharonfofaron



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron
Summary: You're a diver and archaeologist in King's Bay, Madagascar, living off the grid and doing not-so-legal things. Your close friend Jameson runs the cheapest 4 by 4 rental place in town, and one day three particularly interesting men stop in--one of whom has a particularly intriguing accent.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was high that day as Samuel, Nathan, and Sullivan headed into the small rental shack. It was on the outskirts of the town, at the very edge of the marketplace, so there was hustle and bustle on its right side and silence and open grasslands on the other. The cars were lined up behind the shack itself, which was an open-air little building with a small, rough roof, and Sully was quick to start haggling with the man behind the counter, while Sam and Nathan leaned against one of the shack's posts. Sam started smoking a cigarette. 

You had just come up from the harbor down at the bottom of the hill, having done your dives for the morning, and were still clad in your wetsuit, barefoot and damp and feeling fully alive. But, hey; you felt like that all the time after being in the water. And it was a beautiful day, and you were off to have some lunch in the marketplace.

Spirits high, you headed towards Jameson's shack--he was one of your favorite people here, and you'd bonded immediately when you started renting jeeps from him four years ago. That was back when you'd first arrived, and now you approached him easily, relaxed and with a big grin on your face, looking fully exhilarated from your swim. Sam and Nathan both straightened as you arrived, their eyes traveling up and down over your lithe, wetsuit-clad body.

You didn't notice either of them, too distracted by what you clearly heard to be Jameson's fake broken English as he negotiated with an old man at the counter. 

"Jameson!" You said with a chastising grin, interrupting them smoothly. You could feel all three men watching you, surprised at the intrusion, but you kept your eyes and your scolding on your friend. "I did not spend three years teaching you English to watch you fuck around with these poor boys." You gestured at the men and threw them a kind, cheerful smile. The two younger ones stepped closer, grinning back--Nathan could practically see his brother's eyes bugging out, and figured he knew exactly what was going through his head--and the older man let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow towards Jameson. 

Jameson shrugged, trying to keep up the charade--oftentimes tourists would rather pay up than have to struggle through international communication--and plaintively said in Malagasy "Inona no resinao, Y/N? Lo no hany fiteny azoko lazaina!" (What are you talking about, Y/N? This is the only language I speak!). 

Your face grew stern, and you threw one of the candies on the counter at him. You were an athletic person, and a trained fighter, and the candy hit him square in the forehead. "Ow!" He flinched, and you and the three men burst out laughing. "ENGLISH," you said, still giggling, and you put your hands on your hips casually.

Jameson groaned, and broke character, slipping into his normal voice. "For God's sakes, Y/N, how's a man ever going to make a profit if you keep stopping him from fleecing the foreigners?!"

The older man laughed. "Well, AS one of said foreigners I'd like to thank you. And judging by your accent, I'd say I'm not the only foreigner. Victor Sullivan." He took your hand and kissed it. You laughed, smiling, and Nate felt his brother turn away in frustration for a second and mutter "Jesus Christ."

"Y/N L/N", you said lightly, but he straightened up a little more. "Y/N L/N. I've heard that name." He leaned back to look at you, and thoughtfully took a pull on his cigar. "You're that diver. Underwater archaeology, right?"

Normally you would have been surprised at the recognition--but just like he knew your name, you also knew his. And even if you didn't already know who Victor Sullivan was, you'd have known by default that he ran in your kinds of circles. You weren't exactly known in the more LEGAL archaeological communities, or the diving ones. The other men looked even more interested now, and Nathan could swear that he felt his brother's body humming eagerly to get your attention from Sully. 

"You're supposed to be the best of the best," Victor said. You liked the grumbly sound of his voice.

You shrugged and smiled, brushing off the compliment easily. "Hey, I get to be in the water on hot days like this, right?"

The men laughed a little, and Sullivan--ever the gentleman, and deciding to grant some mercy on Sam--stepped back a little to introduce his friends. "This is Nathan Drake, whom you might have heard of, and his brother Sam."

You shook their hands, smiling. Sam couldn't help grinning back, but inwardly was still cursing at Sully. He'd wanted to kiss your hand, but he couldn't do it as HIS thing since Victor had already just done it to you. So he settled on a smile and a wink and a low "Hey." 

You beamed at them both. You liked meeting fellow Americans, especially in your line of business. And especially hot ones. "Hi!" you said, addressing both of them as you moved from shaking his hand to shaking his brother's. "And yes, I HAVE heard of you. From what I hear, most of this world wouldn't still be standing if you hadn't done what you did in Shambhala. So, you know," you laughed, making a comically vague gesture with your now-free hands "Thanks."

Nathan laughed at that, and Sam bristled a little at his brother getting the extra attention. He'd really have to up his game and find this treasure--and hopefully many more. Especially if it was going to impress girls like you. 

"So I take it you boys need a 4 by 4?" you asked, hands on your hips again and looking between them happily. "Yes we do," Sullivan said, smoking his cigar. Sam smoked a cigarette that you hadn't even noticed. Jameson opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a hand jokingly. "Shut up, Jameson. You owe me a favor."

Jameson grumbled, but tossed you the keys. "You'll be a wanting a winch, I assume," you said as you led them around the back to the cars. "Actually, yes," Nathan said excitedly, and Sully groaned. "Yes, FINE Nate, we're getting a winch."

You laughed at the father-son banter and approached the sturdiest one of the cars. You'd rented all of these before--each one was a different make--and knew that this one could withstand some serious heat.

"Here you go. Best one of the bunch. Who's driving?" "Me," Nate said quickly, and Sully groaned again. "Goddamnit, Nate, you drive like a six year-old kid."

"Shh, no I don't," he said, scoffing and taking the proffered keys with a smile. "Thanks, Y/N. Don't we have to sign something, and pay, or...?"

You laughed and brushed it off, gesturing in the air with one hand still on your hip. "Nah, Jameson owes me. And besides" you looked at them with a rueful smile, speaking a little more quietly "I think we all know this jeep's not coming back."

They looked surprised, and Sam's gaze sharpened to focus on you. "What makes you think that?" he asked, and you heard his accent for the first time. 

"Well--" you laughed and gave a sheepish half-shrug, leaning into the car sideways and pulling a map out of the glove-box "you might know me, Victor, but I also know you. AND I happen to know that there's a certain Shoreline battalion already combing the area just above the river valley, near a certain volcano." The army's arrival had been the talk of the harbor this morning, and you tended to keep an ear out for such things. "So..." you unfolded the map and handed it to Nathan with a friendly smirk "good luck." 

"Wait, you--" Sam looked confused, then impressed. Sully chuckled and smoked his cigar, muttering "God damn." 

"You boys from Boston?" you asked Sam. He looked impressed again. "Yeah. You?" 

"Yeah. Mattapan." He grinned. "Hey, us too!"

"It's been a while since I've seen any other Americans, particularly any from New England. Except for Rafe Adler, but he's not exactly a bundle of joy to be around."

"You've met him? Is he here?" They looked alarmed. 

"Yeah, he's here somewhere, but I haven't seem him today yet. I don't think he's out in the valley with the trucks. More likely he's sitting somewhere gelling his hair." They chuckled at that, and you gave the truck a once-over before starting to leave, walking backwards with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you boys! Take care of yourselves!"

"Hey, hold up," Sam said suddenly, lifting his cigarette-wielding hand in the air. You looked at him, questioning, and he got the words out before he could blush. "We might need an underwater archaeologist sometime. You got a phone number?" 

"I've got a boat phone," you said kindly, recognizing what Sam was doing but trying to keep the tone light and platonic anyway. You leaned back into the car, grabbing its one pen, and scribbled your number on the back of Nathan's map, taking it from him with a sweet "Thank you" before giving it back. "So that'll work, unless of course my boat blows up...which, since SHORELINE is around, it actually might." Your laugh let them know you were kidding, and you left with a smile and a wave. "Good luck guys!"

 

"Smooth, Sam," Sully said sarcastically, smoking his cigar as they all watched you go, briskly headed towards the marketplace, ponytail swinging. 

"I mean, I'M impressed," Nathan said supportively, and Sam patted him on the back affectionately, hopping in the back before they could see his face redden. 

As Nate started driving, Sam asked "Hey, you think finding Libertalia--you think finding a treasure like that'll impress a girl like her?"

"With a girl like that, that's probably the ONLY thing that'll impress her," Sully laughed, sitting shotgun.


	2. Chapter 2

You jumped down from your boat's little roof to land on its deck with an agile thump, adroitly going through the motions of tending to what you affectionately called 'your baby'. It had been another good day on a dive; you'd found a few trinkets and treasures, enough to keep your little adventures going for quite some time. You had music playing, and were hustling and bustling between dock and deck like a buzzy bee, when you heard your name called from close by. The Drake brothers and Sullivan were coming up from the pier, walking onto the dock towards you, friendly looks on their faces--or, in Sam's case, admiring. He only hoped that Sullivan wouldn't steal his thunder this time. 

"Y/N!" Your ponytail swished and flew in the air as you turned, damp and wet-suit-clad and in a tremendously good mood just like you had been last time--which had technically only been about six hours before. 

"Hi, boys!" You hopped down cheerily, landing right in front of them, hands going back on your hips, your wet hair and skin shining in the bright sunshine and your grin giant as you looked between the three of them. "I see you survived so far," you said positively, and Sullivan chuckled. "Yeah, so far."

"And the car?"

The boys shifted in place and gave each other looks. You saw Nate's mouth twitch like he was trying not to laugh, and you let yours do it too. Seeing that, Sam visibly relaxed and let out a very real little chuckle. You grinned wider. Sullivan looked sheepish. "Sorry, Y/N. Looks like you were right about us after all." 

"And how's Shoreline doing?" you arched an eyebrow, and Sam started smirking like a Cheshire cat. You hadn't meant it to be a sexy move, just a mischievous one, but he felt his heartbeat quicken anyway. 

"We've been holding our own so far," he said smoothly, trying to turn your attention to him, and it worked. "Actually, we got a...proposition of sorts for you." 

You looked between the three of them, eyes turning a little more serious and professional, before nodding your head towards the boat. "Okay, hop on." 

As the three of them clambered like monkeys onto your boat after you--none of you needing the ladder, and all of you being slight show-offs--you glanced back on the dock to see a motorbike. "That yours?" You tilted your head towards it, and Sam--who had not-so-subtly cut Sullivan off to be the first behind you--beamed. "You like it?"

You nodded enthusiastically, your white teeth flashing, and he actually felt himself puff his chest up. You noticed that, too, and preened a little at causing the reaction. These really were a good-looking bunch of boys. "Yeah, it's the 250 cc twin, right?"

Sam gaped at you as if you were from outer space. "You know bikes?"

"Ha!" With that little laugh, Sullivan arrived, and you led them into the boat's little cabin confidently. "Can't own a boat without being a bit of a mechanic."

Sam opened his mouth to respond, getting into the conversation, but closed it with a comical frown when Sullivan cut in. "Well, you'll have to thank Shoreline for that particular one," he said, stepping in last. You laughed. Sully winked, and Sam glared. 

You perched yourself on the counter, legs dangling, and looked between the three of them. "So," you said perkily "what do you need?"

"Well, guns and ammo and supplies for starters," Nate said, "But actually the treasure we're looking for is on a particular island. We need a ride out, and back. You in? You'd get a fair share--and we're talking upwards from 400 MILLION bucks here."

Your mirth vanished, and your gaze became calculating. After a moment of silence, you murmured "There's only one treasure worth even remotely that much."

Sam spoke up, his voice low. "Does "Pro Deus Quod Licentia" mean anything to you?" 

Your look turned more devious now, and a grin spread slowly on your face like that of the Grinch. Only, not green or grumpy. Sam smirked right back. 

"Yes, it does." You looked away for a second, clearly doing some quick thinking, then turned back and hopped off the counter sprightly. "Okay." You clapped your hands once then rubbed them together in anticipation. "I can get us everything you need; you boys have a place to stay tonight?"

"Yeah, we're all set," Nathan said, just as Sam was about to flirtily say "Well, I'll change my plans if it means with YOU". He grumbled inwardly at Nathan's accidental cockblock. 

"Great." Your gaze was distant now, as you ran through your task list in your head. There was one in particular you weren't looking forward to...but the thought of Libertalia was too grand and wonderful. "Meet back here a little before dawn; it's better if we start in the dark."

Sam was THIS close to making another innuendo-laced comment at that one, but Nate seemed to sense it, and bumped his brother in warning before saying "Sounds good. See you then."

"Bye, boys," you said nicely. "Sleep tight." Once they left, you turned around swiftly, preparing to change your clothes. You had a busy night ahead of you, and not one that you were looking forward to either. 

On the dock, Nate rapped the back of his hand against Sam's chest. "Sam, don't HIT ON her!" he said quietly. Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, the three of them speaking while walking. "What?" He said, sounding innocent. "She's hot!" 

"Yeah, but we need her to LIKE us for now. What if she's one of those ones who gets offended easily?"

"I'm with Sam on this one, actually," Sullivan said, taking out a cigar and grinning. Nate looked at him, askance, and Sully shrugged. Sam's eyes narrowed on him, sensing the competition. "She's a looker. And she doesn't strike me as the type to get offended. Probably used to it from dozens of guys by now."

Nate threw up his hands and rolled his eyes, but he was already smiling a little. "Fine, fine. Both of you get your testosterone out and have fun. But don't come crying to me when we find ourselves swimming in the Indian Ocean."


	3. Chapter 3

Moths flickered around a solitary lamppost as you entered a particulary dark and eerily quiet section of the city, turning a corner to walk into a decrepit alleyway that held a few men who murmured unsettling things to each other as you passed. You kept your face serious and your stride smooth, trying to hide your nerves, but it didn't work. 

"Inona no ataonao ato, Y / N? Tsy toy izany ny toeranao." (What are you doing here, Y/N? This isn't your kind of place.), one man called out in an even voice that revealed nothing. You looked at him, knowing by now that ignoring him would only enrage him, and he spoke again before you could respond. "Mahatsiaro tena ho tara loatra. Zavatra mahagaga tahaka anao no mety ho maratra." (Dangerous to be out so late. A pretty thing like you could get hurt.)

You met his gaze, your expression deliberately attentive but inscrutable. You knew he'd accept any twitch of an eyelash or squirm of your mouth as a sign of either acquiescence or hostility, and respond in kind. But your tremulous attempt at a neutral expression was unnecessary; as a second man spoke, saying "Ahoana no ataonao, na izany aza, tsara tarehy ramatoa? Aza mieritreritra hoe te hanao vola ianao, ankehitriny..." (How you doing, anyway, pretty lady? Don't suppose you want to make some money, now...), a third man who was sitting down sharpening a knife and had only given you a glance cut him off. 

"Hey, afaho izy, Marcelas. Nikodemosy tia azy." (Hey, shut it, Marcelas. Nicodemus likes her.) 

That was enough for the other two men to shut their mouths immediately, and to physically back away and sit down. Neither even made an attempt at a grudging complaint, which was just another sign of how much Nicodemus's people feared him. 

The third man nodded his head towards the ajar door next to them, and said in English, "You can go right in." 

You gave him a brief look of acknowledgement, and he met your gaze for a second in some sort of...commiseration, it seemed like, before you headed inside. 

A few more henchmen later--all higher-ups, like the third man outside, who knew who you were and knew that you were on Nicodemus's 'special' list--and you were in a warmly lit, darkwood office, one with plush red chairs and classical texts adorning the walls. Nicodemus liked to pretend that he was more erudite and international than he really was, even though he had never been farther than Tanzania. And you were fairly certain that his office aesthetics were copied straight out of movies. 

A young, attractive man came in then, tall and lean and well-muscled. He was tan, and good-looking enough that his physical features had helped lead to his success--but he had a narrowness in his eyes.

Except, that is, when he was with you. You didn't care for Nicodemus, and tried to avoid Madagascar's criminal underworld whenever possible. You'd evaded his advances by flitting away like you always did with everyone--but tonight, you needed weapons, and you needed them fast. The prospect of Libertalia--and of helping those Drake boys--was too great to pass up. 

An enormous grin spread across his face when he saw you, and he opened his arms wide. You kept yours crossed, but smiled at him amicably. You'd thought of leaning against his desk or sitting down, but you were still clinging to the hope of not having to DO anything to get what you wanted tonight. Standing allowed you to dodge; any other positions didn't. 

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he said slowly, closing the distance regardless of your body language and kissing both your cheeks, holding your upper arms gently in an affectionate squeeze. "Where have you been keeping yourself, huh?" He kept his face close as he drew away, the interest in his eyes so blatant that even a devout-romance-dodger like yourself couldn't deny its meaning. You could only play oblivious for so long, and judging by your need tonight and Nicodemus's expression, your time was up. 

You kept your smile light and friendly, lifting a hand to your hair and straightening your body further upright, hoping he'd get the physical message to move away from you. He did, but only a little; when you'd done that in the past, it had worked far better. He clearly was tired of the chase. 

"Lots of odd jobs," you said vaguely, but pleasantly, trying to get right down to business "and actually, FOR one of said jobs, I need a few small weapons from you." 

Nicodemus arched an eyebrow. "And what will you give me?" 

"I can pay," you said swiftly, reaching into a hidden pocket inside your jacket--but he took that opening as an opportunity, and instead of letting you reach into your leather jacket and take out the cash, he used the gap between your tank top and jacket that you'd just made and slid his own big hands swiftly around your waist, holding your torso tightly. You stiffened and tried to move back a little, still smiling but feeling it falter, and he deliberately pulled you even closer. You arched your back, trying to keep your face away from his mischievously grinning one, but that unfortunately made your pelvis head towards his. He took THAT opportunity, too, and slid his hands onto your ass. 

"I don't want your money, Y/N," he said knowingly and a little scoldingly, a chastise in the quirk of his eyebrow. He started running his hands up and down your torso, then took one finger and ran it up and down your stomach lightly. Your skin automatically retracted, making it look like you had sucked in a breath--which he, of course, interpreted to be arousal and anticipation. 

"Come ON, Y/N, you know I want YOU," he said matter-of-factly. "I've always wanted you. YOU are the sexiest thing," he murmured against your cheek, abruptly taking your chin in one hand and holding it tightly to stare into your uneasy (E/C) eyes "I have EVER seen. None of my men can have you, huh?" His voice started lilting higher, and his hands groped more firmly, his hips and undeniable erection starting to press straight between your legs. "None of the tourists, none of those other Americans that visit this place? But I--" his fingers started very lightly lifting the bottom of your tank top in little rolls and folds, as he was clearly enjoying taking his time "you let ME do this to you, hm? You let me touch you here?" One finger slipped into your short's waistband. "And kiss you here, hm? Only me, you let do this?" His lips met your neck, near the very center of your throat, and you held your breath, nervous and fighting the very strong urge to hit him. Think of Libertalia, you thought to yourself, think of Libertalia...

"Please just take my money, Nico," you said quickly, hoping that the pet name would help appease him. But he was already shaking his head deviously. "Mmmmm, no, Y/N," he chuckled. "Your money is no good here. But you let me have you--" He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes earnest for a tiny second, throwing you off-guard "you can have as many and annnyyy guns you want. Fair?" He stole a kiss then, and you tensed as his tongue pressed its way into your mouth. 

You didn't cooperate, exactly, but you did let him take your jacket off--then the next thing you knew, he was kissing his way up your stomach, slowly lifting your tank top up and over your head. It was when he started to kiss his way down that you jolted, and shoved him off; he'd been lulled into thinking you were cooperating, so the move actually worked. You shoved him back again before he could re-close the distance--his face rapidly getting darker as he realized he wasn't getting his way--and you held up a conciliatory hand in an attempt at a calming motion. 

"Come on, Nicodemus, that's farther than I usually let ANYONE ever get, okay? Can you just take that much for now and let me leave?" He looked angry, and took a deep slow breath. You could see his erection through his trousers, and knew that any kind of physical altercation would go badly for him in that department. But, still hoping to avoid combat, you went for his ego. 

"Seriously, Nico, if you want me then you have to respect me. I am telling you no, for today. And you've still already gotten more than any other man on this island. All right? Can that please just be enough for now?"

He still didn't look convinced, his jaw clenching and his fingers twitching. You sensed that he was about to pounce--so you went for the gut. 

"If you really like me," you said quietly, trying to let some "real" emotion show, "then you wouldn't want to be making me uncomfortable and unhappy like this right now." 

That worked; Nicodemus blinked, his bravado gone, and suddenly looked very much like a sad and earnest kid who'd misbehaved. There was silence for a moment, then he coughed a little. 

"You're right. I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that. Tell Marco what you need in the hallway and he'll get it for you." 

"Thank you." You said it very, very softly, and moved to leave, trying not to let relief take over your thoughts just yet and jinx you--

Too late. The nice Nicodemus was gone again, and all you felt was a strong hand on your arm and your name being hissed as he tried to pull you back to him. You responded immediately with a swift elbow to the gut and several well-aimed hand chops at his throat and neck, then ended by kicking his knees out from under him and running out the door. 

Marco and another man were there waiting, and you dispatched them quickly, taking their guns. 'Well,' you thought, 'These'll have to do. In for a penny, in for a pound--'

As you sprinted from the alleyway, some shouts rang out behind you--Nicodemus had obviously recovered--and you bolted towards the safer part of town. There were only a few cheap motels that those boys would've stayed in, and you'd just decided to move the schedule up.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam, Nathan, and Sully were all lounging in their surprisingly nice--although seedy on the outside--motel room, when there was a sudden knock on the door, fast and quick raps. 

Nathan was closest, and stood to open it while Sam and Sully rushed to stand behind him, their bodies all tense. 

You stood on the other end of the door, visibly panting, your jacket fortunately zipped up now to hide the fact that you weren't wearing a shirt. It was a good jacket, and you were glad you'd had the presence of mind to grab it--

"Y/N? What's going on?" Sully asked. 

"Change of plans," you panted, looking behind you nervously, and all three boys grew more alarmed, already shifting in place as if eager to be in motion. "We're leaving. NOW."

"Give us thirty seconds," Nate said grimly, and all three boys started ramming what little items they'd unpacked into their bags. You avoided speaking, not wanting to distract them, and kept your gaze outside, moving back and forth in place on the balls of your feet like a runner at the starting line. 

"Jesus, Y/N, what the hell happened?" Sully asked, but Nate cut him off "No TIME! Y/N, what's our getaway?" You glanced at him appreciatively, grateful for his understanding of the urgency. 

"Jameson's moving the boat," you said, already walking backwards and leading them down the street to the left, still looking around instead of looking at them. "We've got supplies and a couple guns--you guys don't need anything else, right--"

"No-" Nate said; he and Sam had already packed their own climbing ropes and hooks and pistons. 

"We're meeting in a spot farther from the harbor. Just stay close to me--"

The next half an hour consisted of lots and lots of sneaking--you actually ended up leading them onto the rooftops instead, climbing around and over the enemies instead of just walking through alleyways--and soon, adrenaline and tension still buzzing through your veins, you arrived at the secluded little inlet where Jameson--and your boat--were patiently waiting. 

Or not-so-patiently waiting, it seemed. Jameson practically flew at you as you got on board. "Nate, start the engine," you said quickly as Jameson gave you a hug. "You two get the anchor." Normally you'd be more polite and cheerful, but there was time for neither. All three started working immediately, overhearing your conversation as they did so--but understanding none of it. 

"Y / N, inona no nitranga tamin'ny helo? Inona no nataonao?" (Y/N, what the hell happened? What did you do?)

You shook your head grimly, and stepped away to start taking some of the anchor rope from Sam and coiling it up, still talking. "Fa izay tsy nataoko no tsy vitako." (It's more what I didn't do.) 

Jameson's eyes widened in realization, then got sad. "Nicodemus?" 

The men glanced at you, understanding that that was a name. 

You nodded ruefully. "Tsy maintsy handeha aho, Jameson. Miala tsiny aho. Tsy misy fotoana hanaovana veloma velively." (I have to go, Jameson. I'm sorry. There's no time for a big goodbye.)

Jameson looked pitying. "Tianao izany eto, Y / N." (You love it here, Y/N.)

You gave him a tight hug. "Ho tsara aho. Tonga eto amiko ianao indray andro any, ok?" (I'll be okay. You come visit me someday, okay?)

He nodded, sighing, and you switched to English. "Go. There's no time. And no swindling tourists while I'm gone!" 

He shook his head with a sad little laugh before leaving, hopping down to the ground and vanishing into the trees. You felt a sharp pang of sadness, but brushed it off quickly, instead turning to the boys and pulling out the two handguns and one little revolver you'd acquired. "Here you go, boys," you murmured, still looking towards the cove. "Best I could do." 

"More than enough," Sullivan murmured back appreciatively, taking the revolver while Sam took the handguns. 

Nate started pulling the boat out into the open sea, slowly and quietly, and nobody spoke until the land was a distant haze. Sam and Sully watched you nervously. As soon as he saw your shoulders lower a little bit, Sam spoke up. "Are you okay?"

You let out a loud exhale, hands on your hips, and smiled gratefully at him. "Hm? Yeah, I'm okay, thanks." Your smile was genuine, since there was no sign of being followed, and Sam relaxed a little more, sitting down and looking up at you. His attractiveness and the pleasant sound of his accent made you relax, too, sitting down across from him next to Sullivan. 

"So I take it there was a problem," Sully said, and the sentence was such an obvious understatement that you laughed. "YEAH," you said breathily, stretching out a little and making Sam stare "You could say that." 

"Problem with your gun guy?" Sam asked, watching you intently. 

You nodded. "He's more like THE gun guy." 

"Uh-oh," Sully said, commiserating, and Nate glanced back. You shrugged. "Let's just say I think I've officially made my exit from King's Bay." 

"No offense, Y/N, but you don't exactly seem like the temperamental type," Sully responded after a quiet moment. "What was his big problem? Not like we needed THAT many guns." 

You waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know crime bosses," you said lightly, belying your stress "they don't really like being told 'no'." Before he could ask the question, you continued, Sam still leaning forward over his knees and watching you. "I offered him money, but that's not what he wanted. I had the audacity to reject him, so, now I have to leave." You said it matter-of-factly, with a sad little smile, before turning cheery again and mischievously saying "Aaaand there might have been some serious bruises on his part along the way." 

That made them laugh. "Was this Nicodemus?" Sam asked suddenly, and you looked at him. "Yes. He's even less fun to be around than Rafe." 

Sam scoffed. "That's saying something." 

The rest of the ride went smoothly, with you making the decision to 'park' the boat for a while and wait until daylight to head for the island. You had some blankets and sweatshirts you passed around, and tried to pretend that the guys didn't notice that you'd had no shirt on when you changed. They DID notice, though, and Sam's throat tightened. 

"That Nicodemus is a real asshole," Sully muttered to him in his signature rumble. "Yeah," Sam replied in a low, grim voice, "Too bad we can't stick around to teach him a lesson."

"Seems like she already did a pretty good job of that herself." 

There was silence for a second, then Sam stubbornly muttered "Still."


	5. Chapter 5

~Two hours later~

"Head straight for the island!" 

"Sam, fix the engine!"

"Nate, cover me!" 

"Dodge their rockets!"

"Ohhhh shi--" 

"Y/N!" 

You gasped in air as if you'd never had it before, lurching out of the water and lunging your body onto shore, clutching at the sand as you crawled. You'd donned your wetsuit at some point during the night, just in case something came up--and something had. 

You'd been the first to hear the rumble of the boats' engines, accustomed as you were to the sound, and had gently shaken Sam awake. "Y/N? Everything all right?" You got the impression that Sam was normally one who valued his uninterrupted sleep, but there was no anger or exasperation in his voice when he saw it was you. Instead, he looked concerned. 

"Shhhh," you whispered grimly. "Shoreline's found us." 

"Shit." Sam nudged Nathan awake, then got up to look out over the boat's bow with you, at the headlights. "What's our play here, Y/N?" Even though enemies were literally bearing down on them, he couldn't help recognizing how much he liked the sound of your name. 

"We'll stay small. Maybe they haven't actually seen us," you whispered, eyes assessing straight ahead. 

A huge fog-light's shine answered that question, and you and Sam winced and covered your eyes just before the gunfire started. 

Now, you continued scrambling on the island's shore, a storm raging around you, coughing and gasping as you feebly crawled further out of the water. Your legs were still in the shallows, but you were too weak to get out...your arms felt like noodles. The smell of smoke filled your nostrils, and it was all you could do to turn your head a little, letting your cheek slide in the sand and set up shop there in resignation, and see your boat burning in the shoals. 

They'd hit it, those bastards. That boat was your home...

That was the last thought you had before you passed out. It could have been moments, it could have been hours, but sooner or later you woke up to find that the storm was still raging, your body was shivering, and your boat was still burning. 

The sight of a small boat's floodlights patrolling the shores was enough to get you moving, and you pulled yourself upright on some of the sharp volcanic rocks that formed a harsh barricade around the island's exterior. Lightning flashed, and the shock of the bright-white vision helped propel you further forwards, staggering towards the island's inner habitat and shelter. From there, you managed to set up camp--i.e, sit alone and shivering in the dark--in a cavern, hearing the storm outside until your body's strong aches made you fall asleep. Were the others okay? you wondered. Fuck...

Eventually daylight woke you--and the distant sound of gunshots. You jerked upright, listening, and winced as your body protested. After rolling your shoulders with a groan, you crawled out of your hole--only to very faintly hear someone shouting. 

"That way! There he is!"

"I can't see him anymore! SHIT--"

"Which one did you boys spot?"

"The older brother. But he took off." 

"Eish. That means at least one of them's alive. Boss Lady's not going to be happy." 

You recognized the South African accents; this must be some soldiers from Shoreline. Following them haphazardly through the brush, you gleaned that Rafe and Nadine Ross were on the island, making their way from one end to the other in their treasure hunt, while they'd dispatched their men to find and eliminate any survivors. Meaning, of course, you--although there was no mention of you, so you suspected that the men (and Rafe) didn't actually know you were helping them. Someone had no doubt seen you during the maritime gunfight, though, so you stuck to hiding. 

But which way had Sam went? you wondered, eventually deciding that none of your friends would logically be near the soldiers. The soldiers were bearing left, closer to the shorelines, so you headed right. 

And right was the right way, apparently, because only a few minutes later you spotted some flashlight signals coming from a monstrous-looking cave. S...i...c...p...a...r...v...i...s...m...a...g...n...a? You translated thoughtfully, relieved but confused. This must be one of the Drake brothers...but what did Sir Francis Drake's motto have to do with it? 

With a mental shrug, you started heading towards the cave anyway. Surely Rafe wasn't in some cavern spotlighting Morse codes to people. If he was, and it wasn't one of your friends...well, you'd cross that bridge when you came to it.

It took about two hours--and several stealthy takedowns of Shoreliners--before you managed to get on what you let yourself THINK might be the right track. Clambering up a cliffside, you were almost at the top--your body aching less now, or at least being more used to the pain--when the cliff started to give way. 

"Oh, shit--" you pulled yourself up quickly and scrambled to get on solid land, scuttling backwards and straightening to watch the cliff fall behind you. What a day you were having, you thought--and it was about to get worse when--

A gun clicked behind you and you spun, visibly jolting before you relaxed and sighed in relief. It was Sam and Nathan, Sam lowering his gun and letting out a sigh of his own. "I almost shot your head off," he said sardonically, his smile friendly. 

"Y/N. You're okay!" Nate looked pleased, but beaten up, while Sam mostly just looked dirty. 

You nodded, hands on your hips, and gave them a breathy smile and laugh as you collected yourself. "Yes, you did," you said to Sam, your voice showing no hard feelings. "Where's Victor?" 

"Commandeering a boat for us. Nothing can take that geezer down," Sam said snidely, and you laughed a little again. But your laugh was small, and something in your face must have made the boys feel guilty. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry about your boat," Nathan said tentatively. He and Sam looked so much like puppy-eyed kids apologizing for breaking a vase that you couldn't help a sad smile. "Hey, it'll be all right. If this goes well I can buy a new one." You shrugged halfheartedly before you started moving, trying to brush off their hangdog looks. "So, where to next?"

There was still something sad in your eyes, but Sam and Nate shared a glance and seemed to decide to let it go for now. "Well, m'lady," Sam suddenly smirked, making your spirits rise despite yourself "allow me" he pulled back some vines behind him, exposing Avery's sigil etched into the stone "to lead you to Libertalia."


End file.
